B-sides and rarities.

October 17, 2012

After August

What if you break everything? What if you upend it? What if you disappoint all of the people who are sitting around (in your mind, not really) rapt waiting to see what you do?

What if you ruin things? What if the ultimate was that job, partner, space in time, apartment?

What were you supposed to be by now?

I know I have no idea. I used to think I did, except I know that I never really thought I did. I have never really known what to do, not any day, except the thing that was in front of me. Except the thing that is in front of me. The plate that needs a cleaning. A (small) pot of coffee to be made. A call that I can't make because I'm scared. An email, endless email, hurts unattended, deadlines not met.

I can't fix it, I don't know it. I am caught, as perhaps you are, in endless wtf? In why didn't I have children? Why did that person go where he went? Why did she say that? Why were you so hell-bent on destroying me within a broken system that it became an agenda item for you that would never appear on your evaluation so why?

Why was that so bad?

I don't know. Because there are also rainbows and waves and conversations in cars with people who know your soul and doctors who sit back in their chairs and say "When are you going to take care of yourself?" There are babies who are related to you somehow even if they are not yours, and puppies who will be yours someday and editors who are smart and kind and people who do what they say they will. There are true friends, there really are.

Everything is not broken.

And even when it feels like it is, it never really is, except it can so feel like it is. But through that muck there is the ability to scrounge up some kind of weird promise, the shattering discomfort of new people who will quickly become essential, a mother who still lays down her life in the face of your undeserving, a free washing machine, a knife when all you need is a knife.

It just keeps going, until it doesn't, is what it does. And these hard times when you have thrown all of your breakables against unforgiving walls and they have shattered, they are just a part of it. If you can survive them -- which you probably can, because people have been burned at the stake and survived wars and you are in threat of neither -- they remind you of what can be, if you let it. They are reminders of what you ought not to let them be, if you don't have to.

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